The Certainty
by Isclanel
Summary: ."This isn't another sappy cliche is it?" . "No... I hope not." Julian's life is seemingly uneventful until he's tossed into an adventure where he is forced to tame a hideous creature... One of the greatest love stories, with a Dalton twist. AU Jogan.
1. Prologue, A Pity and a Sin

Hi everybody! *waves* I'm Izzy, and I would like to present my little experiment here.

_The Certainty_ is a fantasy/romance AU epic-type thingy involving CP Coulter's Jogan, from _Dalton_. Nope, they're not mine, but my main characters are based off of them (actually, one is named after one). I was watching one of my all-time favourite movies the other day, and realized how much the characters reminded me of Jogan. I bet you'll recognize the story, it seems painfully obvious to me... I also do not own _that_.

Now, I haven't posted anything in an incredibly long time, and definitely not any Dalton fics. This is just me trying to see if I still have at least some skill in writing. If you have time, a review would be lovely, but I appreciate you deciding to read this nonetheless.

Thanks for sticking with me through this endless A/N. So without further ado...

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><p><strong>The Certainty<strong>

_I remember a time when all was well._

_A time when I could walk, actually walk and not hobble about like I do now. We're all like that. Crippled, and not just physically._

_The lights here grow dimmer with time. I remember how they used to adorn the hallways and chambers, flooding the space and shining like stars. Now light is scarce except for the rising sun seen from the east wing. We crowd there each morning, watching it paint the sky in pink and orange and chase the darkness of night away._

_I used to relish the frivolities that nighttime brought. Then I became fearful of it, to the point that each breath I took made my whole body shiver from the tenseness. Now I have grown accustomed to the darkness, and the only thing I fear is that which is darker than night itself._

_We all fear it, even if most of us wouldn't dare say anything aloud._

_Each day is a thousand years, filled with pointless routine. We still continue about the old ways, but we have added new traditions of waiting and watching and praying for a hope that is dancing just out of our reach. _

_I remember a time when all was well, but every sunset threatens me with the possibility that such a time was an illusion._

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><p><strong>Chapter One: A Pity and a Sin<strong>

Julian had always liked the steaming baguettes that usually sat at the baker's stall. He remembered trying one when he was still a small child and falling in love with the delectable pillow of flour on his tongue. The effect that his bread had wasn't lost on the baker either. "Anything new for you today, son?" asked the plump man.

"Just the usual, Louie," replied Julian. "Mother's getting ready for another performance in the next town. She wants me to come with."

"She _always _wants you to come with." Two baguettes were wrapped in a checkered red cloth. "When was the last time you had some free time?"

Julian placed his bread in his satchel. "Free time, Louie? That's only for people who don't like what they do."

"So you like your job?"

"It's not a job exactly..."

"Oh, but it is my boy. Travelling the country, performing for crowds and royalty! Dining with the most beautiful beings in the land," Louie chuckled lightly. "But all for measly sums..."

"You wouldn't know my pay."

"People talk. A fine-looking man such as yourself should know that."

"Psh," snorted Julian. "Performers are the laughing stock of this country, no matter _what _they look like."

The baker twirled his moustache thoughtfully. "If you say so... I'm guessing you're off to Bud's for another manuscript?"

"It's sheet music! And I just mastered the last one he lent me, a wonderfulpiece with swooping intervals, delicate harmonies! It's magnificent, Louie, so magnificent! Oh, and there's a couple cadences – "

"Molly!" Louie called out to his wife then, cutting Julian off abruptly. "Put some more baguettes into the oven! And be smart about it!"

The performer's son sighed. He tossed some coins into the payment basket as Molly yelled back a vulgar response and went on his way.

Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed. The sun was just above the horizon, casting its long, yellow rays across the sky to awaken the town from last night's slumber. Light was shed on the two-story buildings along the road, the charming rows of coloured concrete and red roofs. Windows were drawn up, shutters thrown open as people leaned over their flowerbeds and called out to their neighbours across the street. Replies were quick, filling the early morning air with bright conversation and effectively rousing any who were still asleep.

A wooden door was opened just in front of Julian. A burly man in grey coveralls stepped out and yawned, nodding to brown-haired boy as he passed by. "Morning, sir."

"Good morning." Julian gave a small smile and continued on.

In a matter of minutes, the village seemed to explode with life. Store-owners who had come earlier to their shops arranged their fronts with their newest creations – leather boots, urns of porcelain, horseshoes from the blacksmith that was hanging them on a hook just past his door. The more numerous stalls that – like Louie's – lined the road were hastily being filled with produce, fare and knick-knacks: fruit stands with strawberries, melons, and the ripest of apples; stones of sapphire, ruby, and pearls at jewellers that made one doubt their genuity; fresh porridge at one stall and ham with eggs at another. One by one, townspeople began to pour out onto the cobblestone path to partake in the daily foray of bartering and haggling at the stalls, gossiping and flirting by the fountain.

Those vendors without customers were calling out at Julian, saying, "Hello, sir! New vases for you!"

"Fresh fish! Caught this morning!"

"Fine silver for you and your loved one!"

"Sir! Come buy some apples!"

Julian, however, was bound for someplace else.

Bud looked up as the door to his shop swung open, revealing his most frequent customer. "_Bonjour_, Julian! How are you today?"

His client smirked as he went up to where Bud was, perched on a ladder against a shelf. "Fine, thanks!I'm finally done with that piece I was showing you yesterday, I just mastered the finishing lines and I have everything memorized now!"

The owner of the store climbed down and fixed the sign by the window so it read "Open". "My word, that's wonderful! I do believe that's the fastest you've ever learned one of these." He patted a stack of papers, just one of the dozens that lined the room. "Did you want another?"

Julian nodded enthusiastically, climbing aboard the ladder and pushing it off to peruse the upper shelves. "I was hoping you would lend me that one from last week."

"Really?" asked Bud. "Don't you want to try something else?"

"It's my favourite though!" Julian said, hopping down from the ladder and scurrying over to the opposite wall.

"Other shelf. Should be next to that red volume."

"This one?" Pulling out a sheaf of paper bound with leather, a grin spread on Julian's face. His brown eyes twinkled. "This is it! Oh, thanks so much Bud! I'll bring it back as soon as I'm done."

The store-owner grunted as he settled behind his desk. "Hopefully that's before next Christmas," he muttered to the boy exiting the door.

Julian slid the leather off as he stepped back outside, his eyes instantly drawn to the music he held. The villagers knew better than to stop and ask him questions, used to him wandering around town with his nose stuck on a page on which was written a language few understood. He himself had grown accustomed to the staring folks and whispers when they thought he couldn't hear them: "I see young Jester is caught up in his music again." "A fool's music most likely." "He should pay more attention to others." "Find himself a good partner."

However, Julian always found himself going the same route after stopping by Bud's to pick up music. Eyes glued to the paper, he walked straight down the road, all the way to the yellow fruit stand. With summer drawing to an end, there was a large crowd gathered, possibly to buy whatever was left of the warm season's melons and strawberries. Julian made a left at the stand and continued past Louie's bake stand – he could still hear the couple bickering without looking up – down to the nursery. A couple children were playing outside, who he skillfully avoided by hopping over their set of jacks. Finally, he reached the fountain in the village square, an impressive monument of stone that was perhaps the most exciting thing in town. Julian seated himself by the water and quietly hummed the tune in his hands.

For a while, Julian could escape reality. He could remove himself from a world of normalcy and sameness, away from the performances he loved to give but were mindless. After all, what was a performance without soul, without passion? Without something to perform _for_?

Julian slipped a quill and ink jar from his satchel, placing them right beside him on the fountain ledge. Taking the quill, he scribbled some words on the side of his sheets along with rough notes right on the music, altering the tune a little bit. Julian never had any real training in music, just a few lessons with Bud and the odd freebie from one of his mother's friends. Still, reading and playing songs came quickly and naturally. Writing them was no feat either, and he often found that songs sounded better once he had "fixed" them than they did before. That was the case with this one. He had borrowed it again to try to fit in a new harmony that came to him last night.

Julian hummed the bar he just added, then the actual melody to see if they sounded nice together. As it was with many other cases, they did.

Too caught up in his excitement to notice anything else, he jumped when a voice from beside him said, "How did I know I would find you here?"

Sighing deeply, Julian replied, "Are we leaving now?"

"No." Daphne Langlois pulled out a pocket-watch to look at the time. "Actually, we're not going anywhere, not for another three days. A letter arrived this morning from Pierre saying that he wants our act postponed till Saturday. Apparently he is expecting a call from the governor tonight."

"It's a lie."

"But one we can't contradict. When was the last time the governor contacted _us_?"

Julian glanced downwards at the quill in his hands and the sheets spread across his lap, not answering. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. "I know you were looking forward to this."

"Was I really?" Julian said exasperatedly. "I love the stage, it's just... Mom, how could I look forward to more ridicule?"

At that, Daphne ducked her head as if someone had appeared in front of them, judging like so many others. "Sweetie, that was a one-time thing, I'm sure it won't happen again..."

"It was a vegetable, Mom! A damn tomato hurled at my head!"

"I know. Trust me, I've had worse." And she had. Julian remembered seeing people throw sandwiches and bowls of stew at the actors and actresses on stage. His mother had been at the receiving end of some onion soup more than once. "That's what comes with our job. It's all for the love of the stage and nothing else."

Blinking at the song in his hands, Julian whispered, "What if there could be something else?"

"You were at Bud's again, weren't you?"

"Mom, I think I've finally perfected something for our next performance! Finding a couple chorus members to back me up wouldn't be a problem..." But he stopped at seeing the look on Daphne's face.

"How many times have I told you?" she asked disapprovingly.

"Nine hundred ninety-nine times..."

"Nine hundred ninety-nine times, Julian!" She shook her head, as if trying to get rid of the thought. "You fear shame from our acts already, how do you think people would respond when you open your mouth to _sing_? When they see someone as both an _actor _and a _musician_?"

Julian was silent. They stayed that way for a little bit, a mother rubbing her son's shoulders with said son staring blankly at sheets of music.

"Mom?" Julian asked after a while.

"Yes, dear?"

"That man just scowled at us."

Daphne chuckled. "I think the problem with you is that you think too negatively," she said, nudging her son lightly. "What about the other people?" She smiled. "Has that one fellow been at his courting again? Oh, what was his name..."

"Marlon?"

"Yes, Marlon! How do you like him?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Brash, too forward. He practically throws himself at me."

"And you don't like that attention?"

"Not from somebody as arrogant as him!"

Daphne turned her head to the sky. "Are you saying that you refuse the most sought-after man in town?"

"Mom, look, he's... Handsome..."

"You're biting your lip. You're lying."

Julian pouted. "Don't tell me that I should accept him."

Beside them, a pigeon landed on the fountain, fluttering into the pool to bathe. Julian traced the uneven ripples it made in the water with his free hand, knowing what his mother wanted to say, but was too ashamed to admit. That not many would decide to court a performer.

Deciding to change the subject, Daphne prodded at her son's satchel. "What's in there, honey? I smell fresh baguettes."

"Oh, yes! Another of Louie's fresh batches, as usual..."

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><p>East of the fountain, a little further down the street, a young blond woman was sweeping the steps of a rough-looking building. The wooden sign that hung out over its stoop proclaimed the establishment to be "The Rusty Tap." As one of only a couple taverns in the entire town, Amelie took pride in keeping her place as well-maintained as possible in order to keep business. Regular customers were beginning to file inside and she nodded to each of them as they passed. The smile on her face disappeared, however, as she noticed two familiar figures seated by the fountain.<p>

Among the villagers, there was only a handful – probably less than five in all reality – that didn't think of the Langloises as freaks. More than once, Amelie had given Ms. Daphne drinks or small sandwiches on the house. They had become close friends over the years, ever since Daphne had dragged herself one dreary night into the Tap with the hollowest of cheekbones and the slimmest of wrists. Amelie had taken pity on the poor girl, offering up a room for the night. She was one of those that hated to see a person in pain or on the brink of starvation and death.

The fact that Amelie didn't even flinch upon learning about her son and her thespian life was probably what made Daphne decide to trust the barkeeper.

Julian himself had grown up to be a fine boy in Amelie's opinion: tall but not towering, toned, brown waves for hair and a wide white smile. Many people in town considered him to be one of the most beautiful men in town, but few would court him. As the son of a loony actress, and with a penchant for performing himself, he would probably be all but ignored if it weren't for his looks. The fact that he was constantly wandering around with music from the crazy musician Bud's shop didn't help either.

From her vantage point, Julian had some more of those sheets in his hands. He and Daphne were conversing with heads bowed. Although they were seated in the exact middle of town on its most famous monument, they could be but specks of dust to the people. That beautiful boy and his talented mother.

Amelie checked to make sure those already inside the Tap weren't ready to cause a ruckus. She raised her voice to the pair at the fountain: "Daphne! Julian!"

They turned their heads towards her, identical smiles lighting up previously somber faces. "_Bonjour_, Amelie!" Daphne called out, standing up and making her way to the bar. She waved her hand behind her at Julian to do the same. He got up frantically and started shoving sheets into his satchel.

Amelie waited for both Langloises to reach her before she offered them a drink.

"I'm afraid we must refuse," Daphne said in a small voice. "It's too early."

Julian, on the other hand, gazed through the open door at the congregation of townspeople talking loudly and laughing together.

Amelie knew that the two performers wouldn't dare enter a room full of villagers. She never stopped asking, though, in case they decided to brave the crowd and finally step in without worrying about what kind of criticism they would receive.

"Julian, honey, let's go." The actress tugged at her son's hand insistently, noticing where he was looking. "Let's go practice for Saturday."

"You could give it a shot today," the barkeeper insisted. "You never know!"

"Exactly," whispered Daphne, "you never _do_ know."

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><p>I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I'll try to update soon! Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. We've Come This Far

Hello again! Here's the second chapter; things are starting to move along a little more now. Reviews are love if you can find the time! :)

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><p><strong>The Certainty<strong>

**Chapter Two: We've Come This Far**

The woods were a stone's throw away from the edge of town. Those that didn't live in the village built their houses on either farms or among the trees in the forest. Several clearings, either natural or man-made, had been occupied by stone cabins with red roofs identical to those of the village. Pathways had been cleared out for carts and buggies, making roads to connect the little French town with bigger cities.

Many villagers, however, enjoyed wandering about the woods for various reasons. Men and women would come in their woollen jackets and lace skirts for leisurely strolls after services on Sundays. Children loved to chase each other into the bush, voices ringing out exuberantly through the forest. During the week, those children who thought themselves too old to be called children but too young to be adults liked courting – the extra privacy of the thick forest made some of their parents uneasy, though. There were even several hunters who frequented the woods.

It was the ideal place for a fellow with a gun, where a nice assortment of pines, birches, maples and oaks stood proudly like great giants, creating a canopy that shaded those in the woods from the harsh rays of an afternoon sun. This provided a capital environment for good game and animals to roam about. Especially on a cool day like the present.

A man squinted his eyes in order to see past the roof of the forest. He leaned against an oak tree with his arms, picking at his teeth with a reed. He heard a slight rustle, face lighting up in excitement. "And three, two, one..."

_Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!_

Three large geese dropped like boulders, piling up in the small clearing. "Whew," the man whistled. "Amazing! But I think you missed one."

Suddenly, another _Boom! _sounded and another goose fell.

Another man strode into the clearing with a rifle. He was tall, easily six feet with a chiseled chest, muscular limbs and a face tanned from numerous days spent in the sun. Deep-set eyes glinted black ice from the kill and a pronounced chin was haughtily stuck out. His black hair was tied behind his head to dangle on top of a maroon jacket. Tied around the man's waist were the tails of squirrels, foxes, racoons and the like. The strap on which he usually hung his rifle was woven through with the claws of a bear. Blowing across the end of the barrel, he smirked, "Gilles, I beg to differ."

"Aw, no!" answered Gilles. "You completely nailed those stupid birds, Marlon!"

"Of course I did." Marlon kicked the heap of fowl, inspecting them with his leather boot. "My sack, Gilles," he said, holding out his hand.

His companion brought forth the loot bag which already held some game from earlier that day. He gathered the four birds and stuffed them inside. "Here ya go!"

Marlon took the now full sack and swung it over his back, saying loudly, "Come my friend; the sun is setting low and I'm in the mood for a beer!"

"We going down to the village?"

"Indeed." Marlon turned on his heel and began strolling through the forest, not bothering to wait for the other man. "I also have a mind for something else."

Gilles ran to keep up, tripping over fallen twigs that he didn't see owing to his large belly. "Aw, Marlon. You're not thinkin' of..."

"Of course I am."

"But Marlon, there's a boatload of other guys and gals chasing after you! Why d'ya want _him_?"

"He's the most beautiful man in town besides myself. That makes him perfect for me!"

"But it's taking you so much work!"

Marlon slowed down then, coming to a stop in the middle of the path. Wearing a curious expression, he turned to face his friend. "Gilles, the best hunters nail a beast with every shot."

"You are the best, Marlon!" Gilles danced around his idol.

"No, my friend, I am not."

Said man furrowed his brows in confusion. "What d'ya mean, Marlon? Of course you are!"

"Gilles, let me give you my lesson of the day," said Marlon, swinging the arm holding his rifle around his companion. "I said the best hunters nail a beast with every shot..."

"You're the best-"

"Let me finish. The best hunters nail a beast with every shot, but the best of the best..." He stopped suddenly and pointed his rifle at a low bush a few metres away. Marlon fired it, startling Gilles, whose face was pressed against the barrel. The pair sidled up to the bush, which turned out to be blossoming with roses of deep red.

Gilles whistled again. "Damn, Marlon."

The face of his idol held a crooked, almost twisted smile. He prodded at a rose in the middle of which lay a small crater from his bullet. "You see Gilles, the best of the best nail both the beast and the beauty."

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><p>Twilight was rolling in on the town. Although many villagers were still out and about on the streets, most merchants were closing their stalls in order to enjoy the nightlife themselves. Some had last-minute customers trying to purchase items that they had been told by their mother earlier that day to buy, but had only been remembered now.<p>

"Anything else? Last chance before I close up!"

"No thanks, just the pears."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Julian rummaged around in his pockets for some coins, taking them out. "Um, I'm not sure I have enough."

The man at the fruit stand scowled and pulled the pears close to his chest. "No haggling at this hour. These pears are full price!"

"Come on, I'm just a little short!"

"Just leave, Langlois. Maybe find yourself a better job so you can afford these luxuries!"

Julian opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a deep voice next to him saying, "My good sir, let me take this one."

A small bag was tossed to the merchant, who caught it and inspected its contents. He nodded and shoved the fruits forward.

Rolling his eyes, Julian went away from the stall, leaving the pears behind. "Keep them for yourself, Marlon."

The hunter sidled up. "Oh, but what would your mother say if you return empty-handed, my love?"

"She'll be pleased to know that the man at the stand was rude to me. We don't take kindly to rude folks."

"Julian, Julian, I think you're too close to your mom for your own good." Marlon grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. "Come, let's go to the Tap! I'll get you a drink."

The actor ducked out of the too-handsy grasp and backed away with an uneasy smile. "I really appreciate your charity, but... Well... I really have to go home. It's getting late."

"You make me laugh, love. The night is young!"

"I have to go home..."

"Live a little. Get drunk," Marlon said in a sing-song voice. He grabbed Julian's chin and tickled it lightly. "Have some fun."

Julian tried to pull his face away, but to no avail. "Marlon, really," he began, but it was too late. The hunter had pressed their lips together fiercely, leaning forward and grabbing Julian's back to keep their bodies locked against one another. Marlon tasted of wood and beer. His stubble was scratchy. He tried to work his tongue through, but Julian kept his lips shut tight. Wiggling his hands up, he pressed them against the muscular chest and they broke apart.

"When will you ever learn?" he heard Marlon yell as he ran away.

Julian wiped at his mouth in disgust. That wasn't the first time he had kissed Marlon, and each time it happened he hoped it would be the last. He hated how forward that man could be, and how he never seemed to understand that his affections were not returned. Shaking his head, Julian tried to push all thoughts of Marlon and his senselessness aside to focus on the road.

The sky was growing dimmer and dimmer as Julian wove his way past townspeople on his way home. The trek was filled with the shoulder-shoves that he had grown so accustomed to receiving. He and his mother were renting an apartment at the edge of town, facing the less-friendly part of the forest. It was the part of town where one wouldn't want to be caught alone too late in the night. It was also all that the Langloises could afford with their minimal pay. The words of the man at the fruit stand echoed in Julian's mind: "_... find yourself a better job._"

Blinking away the impending tears, he kicked open the door to their building and climbed the tottering stairs to the apartment. "I'm home!" he called out to the two-room living space.

In all honesty, it really wasn't that bad. The door opened into a small room that doubled as both a parlour and kitchen; a table for two was pushed against the north wall beside another door. Beyond that was their bedroom, which held two cots and chests for their clothes and belongings. Despite its size, Daphne still took pride in their apartment and spent a lot of time cleaning it. At the moment, she was dusting a vase and turned when her son appeared at the door. "You're earlier than usual," she said.

"I am _so _sorry," replied Julian sarcastically. "I was planning on picking up some dinner after buying those pears you wanted, but I ended up not getting anything." He went to sit down at the table. "Marlon came by."

"Did he now?" Daphne had put her feather-duster away and was starting to warm some soup. "And?"

"Nothing." Julian avoided the question, which his mother went along with. "Anything interesting happen after we left the Tap?"

"Well, after you ran to the meadows, I stopped by the post office to mail my reply to Pierre," said Daphne stirring the soup slowly.

"That's it?"

Suddenly, the actress dropped her spoon and rushed at Julian with frightening speed. Her body was vibrating, and her lips quivered with uncanny excitement. "Sweetie, you'll never guess. Pierre was _there_."

Julian gave his mother a questioning look. "And...?" he asked tentatively, grabbing her hands in an effort to calm her down.

"The show's been moved to Friday instead of Saturday!" Daphne exclaimed, jumping up and down in jubilation. "And all the great English thespians will be there!"

Shock was plastered on the face of her son. "But that would mean..."

"Yes, Julian, _yes_! They're scouting and want to see _us_!"

"Mama, are you sure?"

"Pierre said it himself! Oh, it's Tuesday night... We have to leave tomorrow! It's the only way we'll be able to meet those scouts before Friday! Goodness, and I completely forgot, they want to hear you sing!"

He lost it then. A rush of emotions that had been building up over the years in this bore of a town had Julian dancing around the tiny kitchen with his mother. For Daphne, it was her big break. For him, it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

And that was how Julian found himself seated on a buggy with his mother, heading into the woods as the sun had risen low the next morning.

Amelie had graciously agreed to lend them her horse and buggy when they had banged on her door at the crack of dawn. Having none of their own, the Langloises often relied on her to provide a method of transportation to their various performances. Her horse was old but wise, and had served them well on numerous occasions.

Flicking the reins, Julian urged Old Roamer a little faster. The cart lurched forwards, continuing its journey through the forest. "Is it just me," he said, "or is he slower than usual?"

At first it was a chuckle bubbling out of Daphne's mouth, and then the chuckle grew and blossomed and erupted until her whole body was shaking. The joke itself had minimal humour, yet happiness had completely taken over the two performers.

Julian joined his mother in laughing, allowing himself to become a giddy young boy. The prospect of a beautiful life lay ahead of them, miles down this dirt road worn down with ruts made by countless buggies.

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><p>The strange thing about the forest was that the days always seemed shorter, and the nights longer. This was something the Langloises quickly figured out when the trees were suddenly thrown into a deep shadow unlike any they had seen before. With the thick canopy above their heads, not even a sliver of moonlight shone down. Julian guided the buggy through even slower than before, while his mother held a torch that cast flickering shapes on the ground.<p>

"Honey, I think we should find a place to rest for the night." Daphne's voice pierced the silence that had hung over them for the past hour.

"I thought you wanted to get there tonight," said Julian. "Can you look at the map? See how much farther we have to go?"

There was a faint sound of rustling. "I think we're lost."

"That's impossible! I know exactly where we're going."

"How can you tell in this black hole they call a forest?"

"Trust me, Mama, I know where we are."

Again there was silence. After it reigned for at least another thirty minutes, Daphne spoke again: "Julian, I think I see a gate up ahead. Bring Roamer over there, we really have to stop for the night."

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><p>Lucien was watching through a window on the second floor as he did every night. Seeing nothing as always, he sighed and went to get ready for sleep. Then something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Hurrying back to the window, he peered out and almost toppled over in shock. He rose his voice in a gleeful cry that hadn't been heard in so long:<p>

"_Mes amis, _we have guests!"

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><p>So you've probably guessed the Disney movie I based this off of... On a side note, sexuality is pretty fluid in this universe. Like in Dalton. :)<p>

Well, things should _definitely _start picking up next chapter. If you can find it in your heart, please review!


	3. We Welcome You Tonight

**Here's the third chapter folks! I hope it doesn't disappoint. Oh! And I now have a (quite crappy) Tumblelog that you are free to stalk. My username is "isclanel", but you can just click the homepage on my profile here!**

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><p><strong>The Certainty<strong>

**Chapter Three: We Welcome You Tonight**

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"Nobody's home, let's leave."

"Julian, it's dark out, we're not going back to the forest."

"And the scary castle is any better?"

"It's shelter."

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"I don't think there's anyone here."

"Oh, nonsense!" _Bang!Bang!Bang! _"Heeeeeelloooooo! We need some help for the night!"

"Mom, it's starting to rain, let's just find our way back home..."

But the door swung open then. Nobody was behind it.

Julian and Daphne looked at each other with frightened expressions. "I don't think this is a good idea Mom..."

And the door opened further, revealing a dark expanse beyond it.

Daphne gave her son a tired look, and stepped forward. "Hello? Is anybody home?" She motioned for Julian to follow her.

He shook his head. There was something unnerving about the castle they were about to enter, and he began to despise his mother's desperate need for a place to stay.

The gate his mother had spotted was wrought iron, almost twenty feet tall, but the latches had rusted horribly and fell apart at the slightest push. A bare courtyard of black sand and ashen trees gave way to the large, foreboding castle, unlike any that the Langloises had witnessed before on their many trips. Even in the night, one could tell that its bricks were a miserable grey, and its rooftops a shade from black. Its many towers loomed above the courtyard with gargoyles and spires along their tops. At the front was a set of wooden doors just as tall as the iron gate – they looked as if they hadn't been touched in centuries.

The creak of the one door as it was opened sounded unnatural, piercing the air with an eerie sigh.

"Julian, come on, it's open!" Daphne had one foot past the threshold, but she too looked a tad reluctant to go any further.

"Mom, there's nobody there!" Julian gave his mother a panicked look – there was no way he was entering that castle. "How can you trust that?"

"Julian, come here, _now_."

"No."

"Julian! I'm not leaving you out here by yourself!"

"I'm not going into that castle!"

And that was when a light appeared in the darkness of the entranceway.

Daphne gulped. Julian was frozen.

The light hovered from farther away, as if the person holding it were watching them from a distance. That alone was discomforting enough. The light was soft yet harsh, yellow and orange in strange but familiar hues with flames that stood straight and reached out at the same time.

It was Daphne who found her voice first, still poised above the threshold: "Hello? We're travellers! We just need a room for the night!"

The light flickered slightly and a soft _thump_, almost like a footstep, was heard. Then another, and another, the light moving with each _thump_. As it moved closer, the flames grew brighter and larger until they became a glowing ball. A few more _thumps_ and the ball separated into three smaller lights.

Julian was still as a statue, not sure what to make of the stranger until a voice sounded in the darkness.

"Do not fear, _mes amis_!"

Julian's eyes widened, while Daphne's face lit up. "Hello? Who's there?"

There was one more _thump _and then the holder of the light was standing in the entrance. The only thing strange about him was that he _was _the light.

Julian couldn't restrain himself. "A _candelabra_?"

For a candelabra it was, barely a foot-and-a-half, just standing there in the doorway. The odd part was that it had a face with eyes, a nose, and a mouth that was currently moving: "Hello, travellers! Welcome to the castle!"

Both Langloises were at a loss, jaws gone slack.

"Well? Didn't you want a place to stay?"

Again, Daphne recovered first. "Yes, please. Um... could you...?"

"Show you the way? But of course!" The candelabra waved an arm at them. "Come in, come in! It is raining outside, you wouldn't want to catch a cold!"

Daphne grabbed Julian's arm, rousing him out of his stupor. He was still reeling in shock as he was pulled by his mother into the darkness, now slightly illuminated by the candelabra's lights. All he could see was a marble floor littered with cracks and dust. He eyed the candelabra as they passed it. "Uh... hello," he managed to croak out.

The candelabra gave Julian a strange look, but nodded and smiled. "Hello, monsieur," it said, and hobbled off. "_Suivez-moi_! Let's get you friends to a warm room and a cozy fireplace!"

Daphne made to follow it, but her son grabbed her and held her back. "Mom! You _cannot _be serious!"

"Son, it said there's a room for us."

"It's a candelabra. It shouldn't be saying anything!"

Lights flickered ahead of them; the candelabra's waxy face was visible only from its flames. "Is everything alright?" it asked.

"Yes, yes!" The actress gave her son a stern look and, grabbing his wrist, strode off after the candelabra.

* * *

><p><em>The one, the one, the one! The one we've all been waiting for! <em>

Lucien glanced behind him and grinned widely at the two travellers. _He's the one! I know it this time! _"What are your names, _mes amis_?"

The woman stopped staring at the castle decor long enough to answer. "Daphne Langlois," she said, then pushed at the young man next to her, "and this is my son Julian."

"Julian?"

Julian bit his lip upon hearing his name. He looked at Lucien, but turned away quickly as soon as he made eye contact.

"My name is Lucien, boy."

The young man still wouldn't look at him.

"What, never seen a talking light before?" Lucien chuckled softly, continuing his hop along the hallway. "No matter though, it shall all be fixed soon!"

The candelabra had never been so sure of anything in his entire life. Never. Perhaps it was the years and years and _years _of waiting finally catching up, but this boy following him was definitely the one. Lucien knew it from the very moment he had spied the two from the third-floor balcony. Something about young Julian was special, even when he was standing behind his mother, dripping on the threshold of the castle.

Lucien glanced over his shoulder again. Both Langloises had their eyes trained on their surroundings, taking in what little of hallway they could see in the dim light. They had shed their travelling cloaks after climbing the second grand staircase to reveal mere rags underneath, clinging to their skinny bodies from the rain. Their limbs were tiny and frail-looking, and their cheekbones stuck out from their faces. Despite their ragged appearance, however, a certain something hung about them, especially Julian. It was probably their long and heavy strides, the fierceness in their eyes, or the fact that their chins were raised in a way that said, "Look at me." It was akin to a bravery and a rebelliousness.

And Lucien had no idea what to make of it.

The only thing he decided to do when he had met them at the door was to show them to the third-floor bedroom, the one with the balcony he had been watching from when they were spotted. It was the place they were turning into at the present moment. "Here we are!"

* * *

><p>Julian had barely stepped into the room when a fireplace roared to life, illuminating the entire area to reveal a cozy bedroom. The only thing odd was that although there was a bed, it was tucked into the corner beside three armoires. It seemed as if the room was an entire apartment, with a drawing space and desks and some screens that probably separated the rest of the room from the bathing area. The walls were draped with fine textiles of elegant patterns, the carpets lush reds and browns. All the dressers and tables were stained chestnut, completing the look of luxury. The whole room might have been twice the size of their home back in town.<p>

Lucien showed the Langloises to a large couch in front of the fireplace at the left of the room. To the right of the fireplace, the wall held three large windows around which hung deep mahoghany curtains. Daphne was just thanking him for the room when a different voice sounded out: "Oh, no. Oh, nonononono Lucien! Absolutely not!"

The actor sat up in surprise when a small grandfather clock hopped down from the fireplace's mantle. Like Lucien, it bore a face that was chattering incessantly and stubby arms that were gesturing to the two on the couch. "Who are these? _Who are these_? I told you, Lucien, I _told _you never to bring people to the castle again. Ever! Remember what happened last time, hmm? Who was to blame? Not me, never me – it was all your fault!"

"Come, Cogsworth. They mean no harm!" Lucien blew a flame in the face of his friend, who huffed indignantly. "_Mes amis_, this is Cogsworth! Cogsworth, meet Daphne Langlois and her son Julian!" The candelabra raised his eyebrows mischievously when he introduced the latter.

"Lucien, you idiot! Don't you dare do this again! If the Master finds out-"

"Pardon his, uh, anxiety," the candelabra interjected. "He's never seen such fine guests as yourselves!"

Cogsworth gave the Langloises a sceptical look before taking Lucien and telling him something in a low voice. Julian craned his neck to hear what the little objects were talking about when his view was suddenly blocked by a footstool. And it was barking.

"Don't mind Rosie there! She's a friendly little girl!" A cart wheeled up by itself, bearing a porcelain teapot and several cups. The teapot too had a face, but this one definitely female. "Rosie! Make the guests feel at home!"

The footstool barked and scurried under the feet of the Langloises, propping them up and wagging its tail happily.

"Good girl, Rosie," the teapot smiled. "Now dears, welcome to the castle! I am Angie, these are my children. Care for some tea?"

Julian smiled when Angie tipped herself over and poured some tea in one of the cups, graciously accepting it when she was finished. He was just about to take a sip when the teacup twitched. "Hahaha!" it squeaked. "It's been so long since somebody's drank out of me!"

"Ah!" Julian, startled, tossed the teacup in the air, effectively spilling the hot liquid all over the carpet.

Daphne gave her son a stern look before carefully picking the teacup off the ground. "Hello little fellow. What's your name?" she cooed.

"Chip!" the teacup grinned. "It's 'cause I have this piece missing from my side. But Mama says it makes me special! Just don't run your lip over it, 'cause then you'll get cut."

Angie _tsk-tsk-tsk_ed. "Chip, that's no way to speak to the guests. Come back here so I can refill you."

The teacup giggled and hopped back on the cart. Julian leaned over to his mother and whispered in her ear, "Mom, I think there's something wrong with the... uh, _things _here."

"Don't be silly, sweetie. What could possibly be wrong?"

Julian stared at his mother with his jaw wide open. "Mom! You can't possibly think-"

"_Mes amis_! I hope everything is going well," Lucien said, having hopped back over to them. "Anything else we can do for you?"

The Langloises gazed at the odd assortment of objects that had gathered in front of them. Lucien, Angie, and her children were standing there, looking at them with expectant expressions. Besides them, other miscellaneous objects had assembled: feather-dusters, brooms, buckets, coat racks and the like that all moved animatedly. Some had faces and some did not, but Julian saw that they were all so _alive. _Cogsworth, however, had his arms crossed. He was pacing in front of the fireplace with his head bowed, muttering things under his breath.

Julian cocked his head and addressed the objects for the first time. "Are you all... okay?"

"What do mean, dear?" Angie asked gently.

"Well, you're... you're... _things_, but you can talk! I just wanted to know why."

Cogsworth made an audible gasp. "No! Nonono! You simply cannot! Why, it's already enough that you're here – what would happen if we start explaining ourselves?"

"Why can't you?"

"Oh, don't mind him," muttered Lucien. "His gears are wound a bit too tight."

The clock scowled, turning around and hobbling out of the room. Lucien smiled in satisfaction. "Assuming that he's up to no trouble, let us get to know each other a little better! I am only aware of your names; what else can we learn?"

Daphne bit her lip and looked towards the window. "We're performers," she said softly, eyeing Julian.

"Performers? Do you mean you act on stage?"

"Precisely," the actress whispered.

"_Zut alors!_" Lucien jumped up in delight, waving his arms and dancing around Angie's cart. "We love the theatre!"

Daphne lit up visibly. "Really?"

"Oh, yes! The art of it all, and oh, such music! My favourite performances always included music."

"Really?" This time it was Julian who asked, intrigued. "You know music?"

Angie chuckled. "Everyone in the castle loved listening to music. We used to watch those sort of performances all the time," she said.

Julian stared at the teapot incredulously. Perhaps he had misheard, but... "What do you mean _used to_?"

Angie's eyes widened, and she looked at Lucien, who had stopped his bout of joy. "_Mes amis_," he said slowly, "perhaps you really should know the truth..."

That was when the doors slammed open with a bang and the fire went out, the room all of a sudden pitch black. Julian heard a collective gasp, and then the clattering of woods and metals which must've been the objects scattering. "Mom?" he said, his voice sounding so loud in the darkness. "I think we should leave. We shouldn't have come."

Daphne was silent. Julian felt strangely alone, even if he knew that they were still seated on the couch, in the guest room on the third floor of this castle. However, he couldn't sense the heat of his mother's body beside him, couldn't even hear the chatter of Angie's children or the soft pants of Rosie. He was cold, as if all the warmth had been sucked out of him. The hairs on his arms rose suddenly, and he had no idea why. His breath quickened. "Mom!" he called out again, this time noticeably frantic. He swung his hands around and tried to feel for his mother. But she was no longer beside him.

"J-J-Julian." He heard Lucien's quivering voice from far away. "I'm s-so sorry..."

And that was when he heard the growl that rocked the darkness, feeling himself snatched up swiftly.

It all happened too fast for him to even think of screaming. Julian's whole body froze as he felt himself being harshly grabbed by something rough – definitely not human. Something sharp pierced his arm, startling him out of the momentary shock and he screamed in terror.

"Julian!" Daphne cried, but she sounded muffled.

"Mom! Where are you?" He couldn't stop screaming. Julian felt blood beginning to trickle out of his arm, which was throbbing in pain. He was shaken roughly and his back hit something hard. His brain was going fuzzy, his limbs dangling from where he was raised off the ground. The blood from his right arm was flowing freely now, dripping onto his foot. His cries were getting weaker. "Mom!"

Julian suddenly felt something smooth and cold against his mouth, cutting off his mindless screams.

A low growl sounded out behind him: "_Shhh..._"

And then the darkness swallowed him, everything slipping away.


End file.
